AMC Thwack!
by Graffiti1
Summary: Phoebe goes on a rampage and begins smacking other AMC characters.
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: AMC Thwack!   
AUTHOR: Graffiti   
RATING: PG-13   
CATEGORY: humor   
SUMMARY: Phoebe goes on a rampage and begins smacking other AMC characters.   
DISTRIBUTION: FF.Net, Fruitcake Alliance site, my site. Otherwise, ask.   
DISCLAIMER 1: AMC characters belong to ABC/Disney.   
DISCLAIMER 2: I didn't come up with the idea for this story, but I wish I had. It is used with permission. THWACK stories are property of the Fruitcake Alliance. To join the alliance, e-mail fruitcake headquarters at fruitcakehq@yahoo.com   
  
  
  


Early one fine January morning, diners at the Valley Inn were both surprised and pleased to see Phoebe Wallingford come rolling into the restaurant in her motorized wheelchair. Phoebe didn't get out as much as she used to, so her presence was especially welcome today.   
  
  
  
"Good afternoon, Phoebe," called Ethel Caldicott.   
  
  
  
"Hello, Mrs. Wallingford," greeted Julius Trenton. "It's been a while."   
  
  
  
Regally nodding but not speaking, Phoebe drove on without slowing her pace. Around chairs and waiters, bypassing acquaintances, her single-minded purpose brought her towards a table near the rear of the room whose occupants had not yet noticed her.   
  
  
  
Up she drove, coming to a halt beside Edmund Grey's chair. Not sparing a second glance at the unfamiliar man with whom he was dining, Phoebe looked straight at Edmund.   
  
  
  
In the middle of a sentence, he noticed her and smiled. "Oh, hi, Phoebe. It's nice to see you."   
  
  
  
THWACK! Phoebe promptly smacked Edmund upside the head.   
  
  
  
"Phoebe!" Edmund gasped. "What are you doing?"   
  
  
  
"That was for being a holier-than-thou, smug, fickle, self-proclaimed-king-of-Wildwind pig who dumped poor Brooke like last week's trash without a second thought for her welfare or feelings," Phoebe rattled off precisely.   
  
  
  
Edmund's jaw dropped. Phoebe struck again. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!   
  
  
  
Edmund cringed away and stared at Phoebe. "What were THOSE for?"   
  
  
  
"Your hair used to be all curly and cute but it hasn't been that way for years now," Phoebe replied. Finished, she spun her wheelchair around and motored away, leaving a roomful of shocked witnesses behind.   
  
  
  
Once safely outside the room, Phoebe stopped, pulled a piece of paper out of her purse, put a check mark next to Edmund's name, and surveyed the remainder of her list. So many people to thwack, so little time. Luck was with her, though. As she was about to leave the building, Phoebe looked up and spotted her next target sitting across the lobby. 


	2. Binky's Turn

**Disclaimer: I didn't come up with the idea for this story, but I wish I had. It is used with permission. THWACK stories are property of the Fruitcake Alliance. To join the alliance, e-mail fruitcake headquarters at fruitcakehq@yahoo.com   
**  
  
Last time: Phoebe chose Edmund as her first target.   
  
  
  
  
Phoebe's eyes lit up with renewed purpose as she spied Bianca Montgomery sitting alone in the Valley Inn lobby. It wasn't what she had planned, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.   
  
  
  
Like Edmund, Bianca failed to notice as Phoebe approached. She was too busy gazing with wide, glistening cow eyes at a photo in her hands. Phoebe halted her chair, peered over, and saw that it was, not surprisingly, a picture of Maggie. She shook her head in annoyance; what an incredible idiot this girl was. 

  
  
  
  
She impatiently waited several seconds. Then, when Bianca still didn't register her presence, Phoebe harrumphed beside her, attracting her attention. Bianca quickly palmed the photo and tried to look innocent as she turned around. "Hello, Mrs. Wallingford, how are--" 

  
  
  
  
THWACK! Bianca never got to finish her question, since Phoebe reached over and whacked her on the head. 

  
  
  
  
"Hey!" Bianca cried. "Why did you hit me?" 

  
  
  
  
"Because you're a self-righteous, sister-hating, know-it-all twit who somehow became an invaluable cosmetics executive during your first day of work and has clearly let the experience go to her head." Phoebe indicated the photo in Bianca's hand, which had fallen open with the shock of the thwacking. "You're also a namby-pamby, wishy-washy fool. Either jump that girl or stop seeing her entirely. Otherwise, you're both just a boring waste of space." 

  
  
  
  
Phoebe moved abruptly and Bianca flinched, expecting to be on the receiving end of another smack. True, the first blow hadn't actually hurt beyond a brief, mild stinging, but the experience had been extremely humiliating and Bianca had no wish to repeat it. 

  
  
  
  
However, Phoebe was done with her, at least for the time being. She smoothly directed her wheelchair away, disappearing from sight as Bianca sat in stunned silence and tried to will the fierce blush on her cheeks to die down. What in the world had gotten into Mrs. Wallingford? she wondered.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
_What HAS gotten into Phoebe? Who will she thwack next? Kendall? Adam? Maria? Chris? Mia? It partially depends on who annoys me the most in any given episode, but I realize I can't target J.R. every time, so pretty much all the characters will get theirs sooner or later. Exceptions: Palmer is immune from thwackage because I can't bear to do it to him even in a story, and so are Petey, Sam, and Maddie because 1) they're too young and 2) they're far less irritating than most of the adults anyway. _


	3. Double THWACK!

**Disclaimer: I didn't come up with the idea for this story, but I wish I had. It is used with permission. THWACK stories are property of the Fruitcake Alliance. To join the alliance, e-mail fruitcake headquarters at fruitcakehq@yahoo.com **

So far: Phoebe thwacked Edmund and Bianca; the author received some very nice reviews; and, proving that it is indeed possible to exist without a sense of humor, one offended Bianca fan spammed the author with 36 copies of the same comment while another flamed her via both e-mail and signed review. 

Repeat thwackings are possible. So, Phoebe can pay a follow-up visit to someone who's already met with her wrath, if warranted. 

A few responses to feedback received so far:   
One person wanted Anna thwackage, while two are against it. Therefore, I'll hold off on the matter for the time being and may not get to her at all.   
Regarding flames: A couple years ago, during the height of the anti-Doggett backlash on the part of some rabid "X-Files" fans, I wrote a Scully/Doggett romance story. So, now you know I've been flamed before and survived. ;)   
For Czar Fruitcake and a sane person who only posts her opinions once: Greenlee thwackage and hair mussing coming up, as requested. Actually, this chapter contains a double THWACK! Greenlee and Kendall fans, here's your warning. :) 

  
  
  
  
Who next? Phoebe considered as she left the Valley Inn. Well, she thought, she could probably find at least one deserving victim from among the sorry lot working at Fusion Cosmetics. So she asked her chauffeur to take her there.   
  
  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Phoebe arrived at the Fusion building and rolled up to the front door. She rapped on it several times and soon Kendall Hart popped up. Phoebe smiled inwardly; she'd just taken care of Bianca, and she was about to get the girl's half-sister as well.   
  
  
  
"Phoebe." Kendall looked confused. "Hello."   
  
  
  
"Hello, Kendall." Phoebe edged closer to the door. "I'd like to come inside and talk to you."   
  
  
  
"Um, sure." Though, she looked puzzled, Kendall moved back and Phoebe drove inside, down a short hallway and into a large room with boxes and papers scattered about. Sizing up the location, she noticed that the room held one other occupant: Greenlee Smythe du Pres. It looked like a two-for-the-price-of-one deal.   
  
  
  
Phoebe turned back to Kendall. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here. I heard about this company you and your friends are starting up, and I am very interested in learning more."   
  
  
  
Kendall's face lit up. "Really! Just one minute and I'll be right with you." She darted across the room and began to whisper to Greenlee, obviously assuming Phoebe couldn't hear as she muttered, "If we handle things right, Phoebe might invest in the company. And the more money we have, the better."   
  
  
  
"You can bet she'll be less hands-on than Liza is," Greenlee agreed in a low voice that still carried to Phoebe's ears. "She'll probably just give us the money and then leave us alone to make the decisions. This could be our lucky day."   
  
  
  
Wearing identical plastic smiles, the women walked back over to Phoebe. "We'd just love to discuss the company," Greenlee said in a falsely sweet tone.   
  
  
  
Phoebe eyed the round table in the center of the room. "Certainly. We can go right over there and talk about it." She wheeled herself into optimum position and directed her companions. "Greenlee, you sit there, on my left. And you, Kendall, on my right. A little closer... perfect."   
  
  
  
"Well," Greenlee began once everyone was settled, "as I'm sure you know, our company will--"   
  
  
  
Phoebe reached over and smacked Greenlee upside the head. THWACK! Kendall burst into spasms of laughter, until THWACK!, Phoebe smacked her, too.   
  
  
  
"Phoebe!" Greenlee screeched, blowing her mussed-up hair out of her face. "I can understand why you hit *her*, but why *me*?"   
  
  
  
"I was just about to say the same thing," Kendall whined, smoothing her ruffled curls.   
  
  
  
Phoebe pointed at Greenlee. "You, my dear, are a rude spoiled brat who thinks it's humorous to call Bianca 'LesBianca.' Not to mention believing you're above the law. Need I enumerate your crimes? In a normal world, you would be in jail right now. And *you*," Phoebe addressed Kendall, whose smirk quickly faded, "are a hypocritical bitch who constantly complains about how your mother ruined your life, yet you make ridiculously transparent attempts to be like her. Not to mention the fact that you are stupid."   
  
  
  
"Stupid!" Kendall exclaimed. "I've dragged myself up from nothingness, from being an unwanted baby to being on the verge of running a cosmetics empire that is destined to grind my mother's into dust despite the fact that I usually fail at even the simplest plans and I chose to work with my worst enemy. What have I done that's so dumb?"   
  
  
  
Phoebe paused just long enough that Kendall began to look uneasy. Then she delivered the coup de grace. "Aside from losing Ryan because your obsession with Erica led you to make out with Aidan on your wedding day and get caught by your fiance? I'd say your very bizarre flirtation with 17-year-old J.R. Chandler qualifies as fairly dumb."   
  
  
  
"Ha! I always knew Kendall was a skanky ho!" Greenlee jeered.   
  
  
  
"I am not!" Kendall screeched back. "I'm just lonely, since my soulmate dumped me for no good reason."   
  
  
  
"Well, *my* soulmate went over a waterfall for me, and--"   
  
  
  
Leaving the two young women at each other's throats, Phoebe quietly exited the room. 


	4. Sorry, Brooke

**Disclaimer: I didn't come up with the idea for this story, but I wish I had. It is used with permission. THWACK stories are property of the Fruitcake Alliance. To join the alliance, e-mail fruitcake headquarters at fruitcakehq@yahoo.com   
**  
  
  
  
  
At the end of her afternoon out, Phoebe returned to her niece's house and wheeled herself over to the desk in the living room, where she located a deck of cards and slowly began to shuffle it. Maybe it was time she moved back to Wallingford Manor, she thought. Living with Brooke and Jamie had been convenient for a while and she enjoyed the company, but she did love her independence.   
  
  
  
While Phoebe was considering the pros and cons of such a move, Brooke arrived home from her job at Tempo. "Hello, Aunt Phoebe," she greeted as she removed her coat and tossed her purse onto the nearest chair. "Did you have a nice day?"   
  
  
  
"It was very... rewarding," Phoebe responded.   
  
  
  
"Well, that's good." Brooke crossed the room to the answering machine and played her messages, while Phoebe placidly laid out her cards for a game of solitaire. She listened while Brooke mused, "Hmmm. Edmund wants me to call him. I wonder if it has anything to do with his business meeting at the Valley Inn today."   
  
  
  
Phoebe turned over an ace as Brooke picked up the phone and called Edmund back. "Hello, Edmund, it's--*what*?" Brooke's voice rose to ear-piercing volume. "I can't believe--she *said* that? Oh, I'll certainly talk to her." Brooke hung up and turned back toward Phoebe, an expression of stunned horror on her face. "Aunt Phoebe, I can't believe what Edmund just told me. He--" Before she could elaborate, the phone trilled again.   
  
  
  
Phoebe nodded toward it as she continued her game. "I advise you to answer that, dear."   
  
  
  
A look of dawning dismay on her face, Brooke did as instructed. "Hello? ... Oh, Greenlee, I can't talk right now. ... What? ... She did it to Kendall, too? I'm so sorry. I will talk to her immediately." Again, Brooke placed the receiver back in its cradle and confronted Phoebe. "*That's* how you spent your day? Running around town hitting people?"   
  
  
  
Phoebe played the eight of hearts on the nine of clubs and replied, "Not the whole day. Only the afternoon."   
  
  
  
Brooke shook her head. "This is unbelievable. Should I expect a phone call from anyone else? I've heard about Edmund, Greenlee, and Kendall so far."   
  
  
  
"Hmm." Phoebe thought for a moment. "No, I doubt Bianca Montgomery will make an issue of it."   
  
  
  
"You attacked Bianca, too?" Brooke strode closer and stared down at her aunt. "What were you thinking?"   
  
  
  
"Brooke, it is really none of your concern."   
  
  
  
"I beg to differ. It became my concern when people started calling me with complaints." Brooke sighed and softened her tone. "We really need to talk about this matter. It's very disturbing." She then made her fatal mistake; she sat in the armchair next to Phoebe.   
  
  
  
Sadly, Phoebe shook her head. "I'm sorry, Brooke, because other people are more deserving, but you give me no choice. I have to do this." In the next moment, THWACK! Phoebe smacked her niece upside the head, though this blow did have the sound of a gentler, more reluctant thwack than any other doled out so far.   
  
  
  
Brooke gaped. "Aunt Phoebe? Why did you hit me?"   
  
  
  
"Pick your reason." Phoebe resumed her hand of solitaire as she spoke. "It may have been because of your notoriously poor taste in men. For becoming involved with that child pornographer, Jim Thomason, or Eliot Freeman, the man responsible for the death of your daughter. Or for giving up on Edmund so quickly when Maria turned up alive. Or for your affair with Adam that you obviously covered up extremely badly considering the fact that your impressionable teenage son learned about it almost immediately. Or for butting into my personal business. Or it might simply have been because you have a brain, Brooke, but you just don't use it all the time." Phoebe played her last card, swept away the deck, and drove out of the room.   
  
  
  
The burn of humiliation and confusion seared Brooke's cheeks. Through it all, though, one thought stood out: Had Aunt Phoebe gone senile?   
  
  
  
  
  
_If you've expressed interest in the thwacking of a particular character, please be patient. I will probably get to it eventually. Next chapter will contain the thwacking of either J.R., Maria, or Aidan. (Haven't decided yet.) And I won't take so long to post it, either._


	5. About Time

**Disclaimer: I didn't come up with the idea for this story, but I wish I had. It is used with permission. THWACK stories are property of the Fruitcake Alliance. To join the alliance, e-mail fruitcake headquarters at fruitcakehq@yahoo.com. Also, visit the alliance site at **

It's been longer than I thought since I updated, so I'm posting two new chapters at once. 

Niteowl: Phoebe will eventually administer a self-thwacking. She certainly does deserve it for the Wade fiasco, if nothing else.   
  
  
  
  
Phoebe lay low for the next few weeks, and gradually Brooke relaxed her guard. Eventually she seemed to conclude that Aunt Phoebe's odd behavior had been the result of depression and the problem wouldn't recur. Of course, she was dead wrong.   
  
  
  
One morning, after Brooke had left for work and Jamie was at school, Phoebe prepared to strike again. Her destination? The Pine Cone Motel. More specifically, the room of the amnesiac Maria Santos Grey at the Pine Cone Motel.   
  
  
  
Arriving outside the motel, Phoebe wasted no time in finding the room in question. She drove up to it and tapped upon the door.   
  
  
  
Several seconds, Maria opened up, wearing a tight-fitting blouse that unnecessarily accentuated her cleavage. She looked at Phoebe with a blank expression. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"   
  
  
  
"We've run into each other a time or two over the years, Maria."   
  
  
  
Immediately, Maria went about a major transformation. Her eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared. (Her breasts, however, remained flotation devices.) When she spoke, her words emerged in a low, measured voice that sounded like that of a woman at the end of her rope. "In that case, I'm sure you've heard about my amnesia, and you know I prefer to go by the name Maureen Gorman nowadays."   
  
  
  
"I see," Phoebe responded. "How do your children feel about that?"   
  
  
  
"I have no children," Maureen/Maria declared. Then her forehead wrinkled and she backtracked. "I mean, those darling little lambs are wise beyond their years and understand how I can look exactly like their mother yet not feel like her. I mean, they'll get over it and I do still love them and spend tons of time with them despite the fact that I've told them I am not their mother and may never remember being her. I mean..." She trailed off, looking confused.   
  
  
  
"Really. Well, keeping all that in mind..." Phoebe glanced up--way up--at Maureen/Maria, who towered over her, and came to a decision. She placed her hands on the arms of her wheelchair and pushed herself into a standing position.   
  
  
  
"Careful." Maureen/Maria reached out to steady Phoebe.   
  
  
  
Now on a level playing field, Phoebe readied herself and then whacked Maureen/Maria a good one. THWACK! "That was for Maria." And THWACK! "That was for Maureen. I hope it shakes some sense into at least one of you." She hesitated, then added two more for good measure. THWACK! THWACK! "On behalf of Sam and Maddie."   
  
  
  
This time, Maureen/Maria swayed and Phoebe steadied her, then lowered herself back into the wheelchair. "Goodbye, Maria," she called a second before the door slammed in her face. 


	6. MOReen

**  
Disclaimer: I didn't come up with the idea for this story, but I wish I had. It is used with permission. THWACK stories are property of the Fruitcake Alliance. To join the alliance, e-mail fruitcake headquarters at fruitcakehq@yahoo.com. Also, visit the alliance site at   
**  
  
  
  
As she turned to leave the Pine Cone Motel after her visit with Maureen/Maria, Phoebe promptly ran over someone's foot. A string of incomprehensible words followed. Phoebe assumed they were curses, but she couldn't understand one of them.   
  
  
  
She waited for the young man in question to stop complaining before she spoke to him. "Aidan Devane?"   
  
  
  
"Yeah, that's right." He glanced at the closed motel-room door. "You're a friend of Maureen's, then?"   
  
  
  
Phoebe's hackles rose as she listened to Aidan mangle his girlfriend's name, accenting the first syllable rather than the second. But she forced herself to smile sweetly and cup her ear. "Come a little closer, dear. It's a bit difficult to understand you."   
  
  
  
Aidan eyed her cautiously. Then, apparently deciding that this little old lady probably wasn't an assassin in disguise, he obligingly knelt beside Phoebe's chair.   
  
  
  
THWACK! The unexpected blow knocked him backwards.   
  
  
  
"I'm Phoebe Wallingford, and you, you marble-mouthed lout, ought to at least be able to say your girlfriend's name the way she pronounces it."   
  
  
  
Aidan's hand slipped down to his side as if feeling for a weapon, but he didn't find one and Phoebe safely escaped, running over his foot again in the process.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Next thwacking will be of either J.R., Chris, or Simone. _


	7. Back in Action

_I said this last time, too, but I really did mean to update WAY before this. Sorry. :( Here's the next chapter, and I will do my best to turn out another one by the end of the week. _

__

THWACK 7: Back in Action 

Phoebe Wallingford's hand was itching. It had been far too long since the last thwacking, and she desperately needed to administer another one. 

She steered up and down the streets of Pine Valley, keeping her eyes peeled for an appropriate victim. Sure enough, after a few minutes, who should she spy, toting a grungy canvas bag over his shoulder, but J.R. Chandler himself. He was prime thwacking material if Phoebe had ever seen it, and she homed in on her target with single-minded accuracy. 

J.R. almost fell over the wheelchair that was blocking his path. He brushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes and peered down. "Mrs. Wallingford, hi." 

"I thought you had left town indefinitely, J.R.," she replied. 

Somehow mistaking her frosty tone for one of welcome, J.R. dropped his bag and settled onto a packing crate that lay in front of the nearest building. "I did leave." His nose and lips twitched, and his eyes watered. 

Phoebe stared at him. Her hand itched more persistently. 

"I went off on a tramp steamer to see the world and to get over my sense of ill usage," J.R. continued once he had his facial contortions under control. "Now I'm back," he added unnecessarily. His lip twitched again. 

"Stop doing that," Phoebe said irritably. "With all of that twitching going on, you look like a demented rabbit." 

J.R. looked dumbly at her for a moment before going on. "I'm giving my dad another chance. But if he treats me like crap again, I won't stand for it. He needs to respect me. I've been through a lot, after all. I was driven into the world of drugs. And my mom died." At the conclusion of this awkward little speech, he grimaced, licked his lips, and squinted in quick succession. 

THWACK! Phoebe's blow knocked him sideways. "I've heard enough from you, you boring, facial-contorting, tic-producing, self-centered, poor-little-rich-kid," she informed J.R. "Two actors ago you were cute and appealing, but those days are becoming harder and harder to remember." 

J.R. rubbed his head and gaped stupidly at her, drool beginning to run down his chin. "What am I supposed to be doing now?" 

Phoebe smiled; she might have actually thwacked a little sense into this one. "Catching the next tramp steamer back out of town," she answered. "If you hurry, you can be gone again by lunchtime." Just to be sure, as J.R. wandered back the way he had come, Phoebe unearthed her cell phone and dialed the shipyard to arrange his quick departure. She was perfectly happy to pull a few strings if it meant getting rid of J.R. once more. 

As she finished her call, Phoebe's hand began to itch again, and she resumed the hunt for her next thwackee. 

__

_I know J.R.'s off the show for now, but the horrible memories of his last stint linger. Next time around: Who will get thwacked? So many deserving characters. How to choose? Well, check back soon and find out who Phoebe's thwacking hand encounters_. 


	8. Return to Fusion

THWACK 8 

Enheartened by her most recent triumph, Phoebe continued her thwacking quest. She'd heard about the nonsense going on over at Fusion Cosmetics and decided it was time to pay those women a surprise return visit. 

Today, however, Kendall and Greenlee were nowhere to be seen. Simone Torres, dressed in her usual trampy, tasteless outfit, was the only occupant of the office. She was muttering to herself and digging through a pile of videotapes and photos scattered across a table. She was also making frequent use of a nearby TV and VCR. As Phoebe watched, Simone plucked a tape out of the stack, inserted it into the VCR, and pushed play. She watched for barely five seconds before she ejected the tape, whining in her high-pitched voice, "Sexy? Are you kidding me?" 

Simone repeated this process a few times before Phoebe drove up behind her and cleared her throat. Simone whipped around, her belly button flashing as her skimpy shirt rode up another couple of inches. Her face promptly fell when she saw who her visitor was. "Oh, it's just you. You were supposed to be a sexy man coming to sweep me off my feet." 

Phoebe nodded toward the tapes. "And what is all this about?" 

"I'm busy looking for the sexiest man in America," Simone announced. "Any of these videotapes could have my next boyfriend on it." She frantically pawed through the stacks. "I know he's here somewhere, and I won't let him escape!" 

THWACK! Phoebe whacked her a good one upside the head, sending Simone reeling. "A little tip, you grasping, whiny, clinging, man-hungry fashion victim. Desperation is so unappealing." 

Simone gaped at her and seemed about to resume her whining, which would surely have earned her another thwacking, but just then a teetering pile of videotapes unbalanced and crashed onto the floor. Simone immediately dropped to her knees to retrieve them. 

Phoebe shook her head but nonetheless drove away to continue fulfilling her duty of thwacking as many people as possible. She did, though, make a mental note to check back in on Simone later. Multiple thwackings were sometimes warranted. 


	9. Two For One

THWACK 9  
  
Phoebe's blood boiled. She had just received some disturbing news. How dare J.R. Chandler return to town after she had thwacked him away? Off to the Chandler mansion she tore, determined to rectify matters. J.R. would rue the day he defied the power of the thwack.  
  
Winnifred answered the doorbell and stepped back to allow Phoebe inside, then promptly scurried away. Clearly, Phoebe's reputation had reached her ears.   
  
Left alone to search the house at her leisure, Phoebe began her hunt. Luck was with her; J.R.'s voice drifted out of the living room, straight ahead. Phoebe made a beeline for it. At the edge of the room, she abruptly stopped. J.R. was indeed there, chatting on the phone, but he looked very different from the last time she had seen him. He had definitely changed for the better. Gone were the nervous tics and bizarre mannerisms. Absent was the shaky voice and intermittent eye contact. This new version of J.R.was much more confident and focused. In short, he was like another person entirely.  
  
Phoebe smiled; it was good to see tangible evidence of one's success. Quietly, she backed out of the room without J.R. noticing her. Then she turned and headed for the front door, but who should step into her line of vision but Mary Smythe and Adam Chandler.  
  
Phoebe's eyes narrowed. It looked like she'd get to thwack someone yet.   
  
With a very fake, horrible, social smile, Mary approached Phoebe. "Mrs. Wallingford, it's so nice to see you. Now, why didn't that foolish maid inform me that you had come to visit? I'll have to have words with her about this oversight."  
  
THWACK! With a mighty blow, Phoebe sent Mary reeling and knocked that annoying smirk off her face. "Gold-digging, opportunistic, classless, lying tramp of a Mommie Dearest," she rattled off.   
  
Mary collapsed into the nearest chair, rubbing her head and gaping at Phoebe. Adam stooped over her in a disgusting display of concern.  
  
Phoebe seized this golden opportunity and THWACK!, nailed Adam too, right upside the head. "Adam, you gullible, braindead old fool who invited Mary to live with you, managed to lose Chandler Enterprises without even knowing it, and attempted to secretly eavesdrop on your son in front of a roomful of people. You never used to be stupid."   
  
She drove away content. She hadn't gotten the one she'd come for, but the tradeoff had been more than fair.  
  
**************  
  
More thwacks will be coming whenever I feel particularly inspired. If I haven't gotten to someone you requested, I might yet. Thanks for all the reviews. :) They are always appreciated. 


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